Lubeck locals spill into streets and cafes and onto grassy riverbanks. Gabled houses and witch-hatted towers make me feel happy. Seagulls squawk their pleasure above the copper-green spires of medieval churches, and reflections of tall ship masts stripe the waters of the harbour.
I’ve washed up in Lubeck as an afterthought. Germany is one of my favourite countries, and I’ve started to pry into its lesser-frequented corners. I should never have left it so long, though: Europe’s tourist hordes and the endless trinket shops that supply them have yet to conquer Lubeck or several other charming northern cities.
Old Lubeck on the Trave River – compact and quaint. Credit: iStock Northern Germany’s flat, breezy landscapes offer no splendour, but its cities, and especially those of the former Hanseatic League, provide one delight after another. They don’t depend on tourism despite their historical glamour.
They have universities and immigrant enclaves, harbours still tooting with tugs and container ships, and vibrant cultural lives. The old and modern fuse, and energy levels buzz. Lubeck is particularly special.
Old Lubeck, compact and quaint, is ringed by the Trave River and anchored by the grappling hooks of bridges, as if to prevent it floating off towards the Baltic Sea. The architecture seems inspired by gingerbread, although the local speciality is marzipan. Holstentor city gate bulges and leans like a lopsided illustration from a fantasy novel.
I’m enjoying the fi.